


Careful Observation

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a quiet morning at work...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful Observation

_Too much time_ , Doyle thought, breathing deeply, _some jobs just took too much time._ They gave him moments to look, and moments to dream, and moments to wish… 

And then sometimes they gave him moments like this.

Across the street, mistily through the nets, number fifteen was waking up slowly. There'd been a twitching of curtains, a brief flash of light in the frosted bathroom window, and then the front door had opened, a berobed Jermyne had emerged and bent over to pick up his pint of gold top, and then vanished back inside. No doubt he was curled around his cornflakes now, waiting still for the phone call that would change everything, that would send him off into the bright new day to kill a man.

In the meantime, Doyle watched, arms braced on the windowsill against Bodie's thrusts, still slow, still controlled, heating them both with promise. Doyle could feel every inch of him, the slick in and out, the brush of Bodie's balls, wiry hair pressing against him. One of Bodie's hands was clutching his hip, steadying them both, the other reached around to Doyle's cock, and for now it was simply holding him, simply feeling him, as hard as he'd ever been, waiting for it to begin, for Doyle's own desperate movements to take them somewhere further, somewhere else.

But for now, Doyle wanted… He wanted it to last, this time, as the world woke up before him, before they were thrown into its hurry and bustle and the grubbiness of it all again. So he didn't move, beyond tensing his muscles to keep them in place, to balance them against the window sill, not letting the net curtains so much as sway and give them away. Jermyne was having his breakfast, their own hotel barely stirring towards morning yet, and the door was locked. The world was theirs, just for now.

He wanted…

Bodie's hand left his hip, slid upwards and under his t-shirt, fluttered across his stomach and up to his chest, to his nipples, pinched and rolled and pulled, and he couldn't help it at that, he pressed backwards into Bodie's thrust, moaned deep in his throat, closed his eyes.

He thought he heard Bodie smile.

"Eyes front and centre," Bodie whispered into his ear, "Don't want to miss anything, do we?"

He breathed into the tendrils of _want_ that stretched between Bodie's hand and his cock and his arse, opened his eyes, watched a vehicle, a pale blue Robin Reliant, stutter its way down the road, past the other houses, past the tightly packed rows of parked cars, on past number fifteen and into the driveway of number three.

"Their daily's arrived to get the kids off," he managed, determined to keep his voice steady, knowing he'd failed and knowing that Bodie was smiling again. "Want to write it down?"

"Where's the book?"

The book was where it always was, hanging from the tripod by its wire binding, the spiral tangled in the string that had been knotted and knotted and knotted again. If he reached down, if he tilted sideways from where he was standing, with his jeans around his knees and his arse bared for Bodie's cock, he could probably grab it, the pen trailing on its own tether, pass them back to Bodie.

What would Bodie do? Would he stop, would he still himself and pause to write down the details, buried deep inside Doyle? Or would he maybe balance the book on Doyle's back, pressing down so that Doyle could feel each word as he wrote it, through pages and shirt and t-shirt, could feel too Bodie moving in smaller movements, more careful movements, in and out of him, still in and out…

He thrust forward again at the thought, into Bodie's hand, and Bodie tightened his grip just a little, just enough, so that he did it again, and again, closed his eyes and wished, and dreamed…

Behind him Bodie moaned now, wrapped his arm around Doyle's chest, pulled on his cock and buried his face in Doyle's neck, so that Doyle felt his breath, hot and wet and demanding, and then…

…then Bodie's lips against his skin, kissing him, and the day burst into brightness and Bodie was thrusting harder, was coming inside him, and as soon as he caught his breath he'd be able to reach the observation book, to record it all, another day on surveillance.

_Six a.m., number fifteen quiet, all is well._

 

_July 2009_


End file.
